World of Silence
by Ael L. Bolt
Summary: A deaf Harry Potter comes to Hogwarts and meets Hermione Granger. With Hermione acting as his translator, Harry discovers a whole new world of magic and love...neither of which he's ever had.


World of Silence by Ael L. Bolt  
  
Rating: G  
  
Timeframe: 1991 through 1995 or 1996  
  
Genre: Fantasy/Action/Adventure  
  
Possible Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP, QTTA, FB&WtFT  
  
Summary: A deaf Harry Potter comes to Hogwarts and meets Hermione Granger. With Hermione acting as his translator, Harry discovers a whole new world of magic and love...neither of which he's ever had. Disclaimer: Harry Potter not mine. If he was, he'd be in much worse condition than he really is. ^_~  
  
Author's notes: I really don't know why I love disabling this kid. :P Oh well, fangirls will be fangirls I suppose. I don't normally count 'cuz I don't fling myself on all those cute guys – I'm a weirdo, I have self- restraint! – but the official cover art for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix convinced me otherwise. Oh yeah, and Harry's not a Gryffindor in this fic – but he's not a Slytherin either. One more thing...this isn't a romance.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Chapter One – Acceptance  
  
Harry Potter glanced around nervously at the train and the people. He'd never been around so many other human beings at one time in his whole life, let alone magical folk.  
  
He watched what the other students were doing, and loaded his things onto the train with some difficulty. He quickly found an empty compartment and sat down, relieved that no one would be bothering him so quickly. He stared out the window as the train began to move.  
  
He must've been traveling for at least a half an hour when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. Startled, he turned to face a bushy-haired young girl. She was speaking, and he focused on her lips as she formed the words.  
  
"Sorry to bother you, but have you seen a toad?" she seemed to be saying.  
  
'No, sorry,' he signed.  
  
Her eyes widened as she took in his movements. "Are you mute?"  
  
'Deaf,' he corrected, wincing. 'I can read lips with some difficulty.'  
  
Understanding blossomed across her face, and she sat down on the seat across from him. 'No problem, I know sign,' her hands said as her mouth spoke.  
  
Harry grinned. Finally, someone he could talk to who wouldn't stare or make fun! 'That's wonderful! I thought I would have to write everything down.'  
  
She smiled. 'I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Hermione Granger.' She had to spell out her name, but Harry could figure it out from both that and reading her lips.  
  
'My name is Harry Potter,' he signed to her.  
  
He was surprised when her face showed utter astonishment. Her mouth opened and closed for a moment, and her hands fluttered confusedly before she finally gathered her thoughts. 'You're Harry Potter? The Boy-Who-Lived? The books never said you were deaf!'  
  
Harry felt slightly disturbed by the last comment. 'The doctors say I wasn't born this way, it happened sometime during my infancy.' He reached up to touch his lightning-bolt-shaped scar, his only constant companion. 'It might be from where I got this,' his hands told her.  
  
'So the professors don't know you're deaf?' she asked, trying not to stare at the famous scar.  
  
'I don't know,' he admitted. 'Do you think you could interpret everything for me, just in case?'  
  
Hermione smiled again. 'I would be honored, although we'd better end up in the same House if this becomes a permanent thing. I don't think all the classes are together; they're separated by House.'  
  
She suddenly looked up, and Harry caught sight of the redheaded boy he had followed through the barrier. "Do you mind?" he was asking. "Everywhere else is full."  
  
"Go ahead," Hermione submitted.  
  
Immediately, the boy flopped down on the seat next to Harry. "I'm Ron Weasley," he said by way of greeting, directed toward both of them.  
  
Harry shot Hermione a confused look, and she spelled out the name. He nodded, indicating that he understood.  
  
"I'm Hermione Granger," she offered. "That's Harry, but he's deaf so he can't understand what you're saying."  
  
'Hey!' Harry signed indignantly. 'I can understand!'  
  
"I stand corrected. He can't hear what you're saying." She shot Harry an apologetic look. "But he knows sign language, and he can read lips."  
  
"Can he talk?" Ron asked, looking at Harry curiously. He'd obviously never met a deaf person before.  
  
"Yes, I can speak," Harry said suddenly. His voice was somewhat subdued and nasal, since he could only imitate what he thought was the right pronunciation, but it was easily recognizable. It was obvious, however, that he didn't use his voice very much. "But I have bad pronunciation and it's uncomfortable." Switching to sign, he directed his next comment toward Hermione. 'Can you act as the go-between here? I don't really like using my voice.'  
  
She signed in affirmative, and turned to Ron. "He says he wants me to act as his interpreter. He doesn't like speaking."  
  
Ron looked at Hermione, then Harry, then Hermione again. "And you two have known each other for how long, exactly?"  
  
'About the past five minutes,' Harry signed, smirking.  
  
By the time the train arrived at Hogwarts, Hermione and Harry had managed to teach Ron the sign language alphabet, as well as a smattering of words. Hermione faltered a bit in her translating, but was beginning to get used to it.  
  
The train screeched to a halt, and the three first-years got off. A giant of a man was standing off towards the front of the train, holding a massive lantern. Hermione tapped Harry's arm to get his attention, and then signed, 'Come on, first-years go this way.' He nodded and followed her to a place near the huge man.  
  
When the man started speaking, it was hard for Harry to figure out what he was saying – the giant's mouth was hidden behind a huge beard, so lip- reading was out of the picture, and it was too dark to really see what Hermione's hands were translating for him. But he followed the group through the dark path in the woods, before finally reaching the edge of a vast, black lake. Wooden boats were lined up neatly along the shore, and the other students started getting into them, so Harry did too.  
  
He shot a questioning glance at Hermione, who was seated beside him. The lantern on the boat was bright enough for them to see each other clearly, so he signed, 'I missed most of that. What's happening?'  
  
'It's a rite of passage for first-years to cross the lake,' she recapped for him. 'We'll be seeing Hogwarts in a minute.'  
  
And indeed they did. Harry gaped at the huge, magnificent castle that rose out of the darkness of the mountain on the other side of the lake. He couldn't hear the gasps of "Wow..." and "Holy cow!" from the other students, but his hands made one simple word: 'Beautiful.'  
  
The boats stopped at an underground harbor, which led across a large green lawn and up to a huge flight of stone stairs, which ended with a massive door. The first-years followed the giant to that door, upon which he pounded on it. The door opened immediately, and a stern-looking woman was waiting inside. The giant said something, but he was facing the other way so Harry couldn't tell what he'd said, so he just mimicked the other students and followed the woman inside.  
  
The inner castle was well-light by torchlight, but even so, the ceiling couldn't be seen. A large marble staircase led to different floors, and a long corridor seemed to lead to a large auditorium of sorts. The woman ushered the first-years into an empty side room.  
  
Abruptly, the woman started speaking, and Harry – who had always been unnaturally short for his age – had to stand on his toes to be able to see her words over the heads of the other first-years. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted into your Houses." She then proceeded to completely lose Harry due to unfamiliar words that even Hermione had problems spelling out for him. And then the woman left, leaving a dazed Harry and his classmates behind.  
  
'I admit it, I hardly caught a word of it,' Harry said to Hermione. 'Who was that woman?'  
  
'Professor McGonagall,' Hermione answered. 'She basically explained the four Houses – Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each person is individually Sorted into a House, and their successes will earn points while rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points wins the House Cup, one of the highest honors Hogwarts has.'  
  
'How do they Sort us?' Harry's hands wondered. 'Is there some kind of a test?' His mind raced with possibilities. Would he have to use magic? He didn't know any at all. Would it be like picking teams for gym class back at primary school? He was always picked last. Or even worse, would they ask him lots of complicated questions? He had enough problems keeping up with conversations as it was!  
  
'I don't know,' Hermione said, her face looking worried. 'I guess we'll find out in a few minutes.'  
  
Professor McGonagall came back into the room. "Now then," she said, "Form a line and follow me, please."  
  
Harry suddenly felt as if a flock of butterflies had been unleashed in his stomach. No, make that claustrophobic albatrosses. He gulped nervously, and took his place in the middle of the group. Hermione looked almost completely calm, with only the slightest twitch of worry.  
  
McGonagall led them into a huge, grand hall that was lit by hovering candles. Hundreds of faces stared at the first-years as they walked down a huge aisle between the two long, center tables (there were four). At the end of the room was another table, set perpendicular to the others, where the professors were seated. In front of that table was a four-legged stool with a ragged, dirty, patched-up wizard's hat on it.  
  
The hat twitched and it looked like it was doing something, but Harry couldn't tell what. He glanced around at the other students, who were all staring at the hat with expressions varying from amazement to amusement.  
  
The hat stopped moving, and McGonagall held up a scroll as she spoke again. "When I call you name, you will sit on the stool and put the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be Sorted into your Houses."  
  
And thus began the roll call.  
  
Harry's stomach lurched as he saw Hermione go up to the front, put on the Hat, then give it back with a smile and almost run to the second table on her left. He didn't know what House she was in, but it seemed to be good and he hoped to high hell he was in it too.  
  
He trained his eyes on McGonagall's face, trying to pay attention. He didn't want to miss his name being called.  
  
"Potter, Harry!"  
  
There it was. He may not have recognized many other names, but he knew his own quite well. Swallowing convulsively, he stepped forward, catching a glimpse of hundreds of shocked faces before the Hat dropped over his eyes.  
  
"Ah, so you're the one all the professors are concerned about," a voice whispered in his ear; the first voice he could ever remember hearing. "I can see why, yes, but I'll ignore that for the preliminaries. Let's see...loyal and hardworking, studious and intelligent, ambitious and quite cunning, as well as brave and noble. It seems you're equally fit for all four Houses, young Potter, and because of that I'll let you choose where you want to be."  
  
*Which House was Hermione in?* he wondered, but the Hat heard him.  
  
"Ah, young Granger. Quite well-suited for Gryffindor, but she will do even better in Ravenclaw instead." The Hat sounded pleased with her choice.  
  
*Would it be too much of a bother if I decided to stay with her?* Harry asked it.  
  
"Not at all, not at all. Ravenclaw you'll be, then. It's the second table on the left." The Hat was lifted from his head, and he saw the entire Ravenclaw table cheering and applauding wildly. Sighing with relief, he practically ran down to sit next to Hermione.  
  
Hermione's hands were fluttering so wildly, he could hardly make out what she was trying to say. 'I can't believe we're in the same House!' she signed excitedly. 'Congratulations!'  
  
Ron, unfortunately, wasn't Sorted into Ravenclaw. He looked torn between elation and grief at being sentenced to seven years of Gryffindor. He shot the two a look of disappointment before trudging over to the neighboring table and sitting with a large group of redheads – his brothers, of course.  
  
When the Sorting was done, the headmaster (Dumbledore, Harry recognized him from a Chocolate Frog card Ron had showed him on the train) stood. "Welcome!" he said, and to Harry's astonishment, he was signing the words as well. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin the feast, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Oddment! Blubber! Tweak! Thank you." He sat down again. The other students applauded and cheered, but Harry was too curious about whether Dumbledore knew he was deaf or not.  
  
'Did you see that?' he signed to Hermione. She nodded, and he continued. 'The Hat said the professors were concerned about me, and decided to leave it out of its decision.'  
  
Hermione was about to sign back, but suddenly Harry saw a huge feast magically appear on the giant tables. Roast beef, chicken, pork, lamb, potatoes of many varieties, carrots, peas, and even peppermint humbugs. He gaped at it for a moment, then a wide grin spread across his face and he began piling food onto his plate. At the Gryffindor table, Ron was doing the same thing, albeit more quickly – he'd already started inhaling his food.  
  
Before he knew it, the feast was over. The food disappeared from the plates, and Hermione had to tap his shoulder and point up to the staff table before Harry noticed that Dumbledore was once again on his feet. "Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered," the headmaster was saying, once again also signing his words. "I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First year students should note that the forest on the grounds is strictly forbidden to all students. Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you that magic is not allowed to be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held the second week of term; anyone interested in playing for their House team should contact Madame Hooch. Also this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."  
  
Harry stared, wondering if it was a joke or not. He decided to take it seriously, just in case. He looked back up, and gulped when he saw that Dumbledore was looking right at him, with those odd blue eyes twinkling brightly.  
  
"And finally, I feel I must explain my abnormal behavior tonight. This modification is for the benefit of young Harry Potter, whom you all know is a first-year this year. It is not a well-known fact in our world that the Dark Lord's defeat was at the cost of Mr. Potter's ability to hear, and he is completely deaf."  
  
Harry winced and looked down, not daring to risk seeing hundreds of shocked stares aimed right at him. He quickly forced his eyes back up to Dumbledore, not wanting to miss the rest of the announcement.  
  
"Sign language courses will be offered this term," Dumbledore was saying. "A preliminary course is mandatory, while further instruction is voluntary. It is my hope that you all choose to learn this fascinating method of communication, and I ask that you treat Mr. Potter as you would any other student. Thank you." And then he sat down.  
  
Harry gaped at the old man, shell-shocked. Even though he couldn't hear it, he was willing to bet that the entire room was roaring as five hundred students attempted to say the same things at once. He looked over nervously at Hermione, who smiled reassuringly. 'Now we know,' she signed, and he nodded.  
  
After the rather unusual set of announcements, the singing of the school song was almost an anti-climax. Harry and Hermione both signed the words of the song, provoking smiles from the older Ravenclaws. When the song was over it was time to head to the Ravenclaw dormitory. Penelope Clearwater, one of the House prefects, led the new first-years through winding corridors and up moving staircases all the way to a tower on the east side of the school. A tapestry that depicted a warrior in bronze and blue armor guarded the entrance, and demanded a password before allowing entry.  
  
Penelope had her back to Harry (who felt mildly insulted), so he couldn't see what the phrase was. He looked over at Hermione, worried. What if he couldn't say the password correctly? What if he couldn't even find out what it was? Would they send him back to the Dursleys?  
  
Hermione didn't speak to him. She merely took him by the arm and pulled him through a hole in the wall, which had been hidden behind the tapestry.  
  
The Ravenclaw common room was a very open, airy place. Huge glass windows lined the circular walls of the tower, and the couches and chairs were arranged in a circular pattern along the walls. A large fireplace was set into the wall on the left, and rows of shelves – stuffed with books of all sorts – lined the other wall. A spiraling, iron-wraught staircase, decorated with leaves and birds, rose into the upper levels from the center of the room. Overall, it had a nestlike atmosphere, as you would expect from a House whose animal is an eagle.  
  
Their luggage had evidently been brought up from the train, because when the other prefect (studious-looking chap named Bolt LaForce) led the first- year boys to their dormitory at the top of the tower, their trunks were already at the foot of their designated beds. Harry immediately went to his own and let out his cat, a deep black feline with eyes as green as Harry's, which he had dubbed Sir Lancelot. The cat immediately began to explore its new home, pacing circles around the dormitory before finally leaping up onto Harry's bed and curling up on the thick blue blanket. His message was clear: this is MY kingdom now.  
  
Harry smiled and wasted no time joining his pet on the comfortable bed. He sighed as he leaned back into the bronze pillows, reveling in the extreme comfort of a four-poster bed. Sir Lancelot jumped up onto the deaf boy's chest, and Harry petted the cat as the purring vibrations lulled him to sleep. 


End file.
